Tag California

Places and Pathways

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He who knows, without seeing, does not understand the mystery. Even should every detail of beauty be accounted for by the intellect, does such a tabulation lead to beauty? Is the beaut that can be neatly reckoned really profound? The scholar of aesthetics tends to base his ideas on knowledge – or rather, he tries to make seeing proceed from knowing. But this is a reversal of the natural order of things.

Sōetsu Yanagi “The Unknown Craftsman”

An enclosure, a ground, even a carpet, define a field. What is included with the field is distinguished from what is outside it, even if the elements within are heterogeneous.

Pierre Von Meiss “Elements of Architecture – From Form to Place”

In mid-February of this year I visited The Huntington Library in San Marino, California, a quaint little town north east of Los Angeles. The 500 acre estate was purchased by Henry Edwards Huntington about a century ago and currently contains a rare manuscript library, an extensive art collection and several botanical gardens and landscapes set across 120 acres. One of the most frequently visited areas is the Japanese garden. Having lived in Japan for a while prior to obtaining my Master’s Degree in Architecture, I was curious to visit this garden and see what design lessons it holds that I first experienced while abroad.

Heavens

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Looking West to the heart of the American Dream

A Poem is a City

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a poem is a city filled with streets and sewers
filled with saints, heroes, beggars, madmen,
filled with banality and booze,
filled with rain and thunder and periods of
drought, a poem is a city at war,
a poem is a city asking a clock why,
a poem is a city burning,
a poem is a city under guns
its barbershops filled with cynical drunks,
a poem is a city where God rides naked
through the streets like Lady Godiva,
where dogs bark at night, and chase away
the flag; a poem is a city of poets,
most of them quite similar
and envious and bitter . . .
a poem is this city now,
50 miles from nowhere,
9:09 in the morning,
the taste of liquor and cigarettes,
no police, no lovers, walking the streets,
the poem, this city, closing its doors,
barricaded, almost empty,
mournful without tears, aging without pity,
the hardrock mountains,
the ocean like a lavender flame,
a moon destitute of greatness,
a small music from broken windows . . .

a poem is a city, a poem is a nation,
a poem is the world . . .

and now I stick this under glass
for the mad editor’s scrutiny,
and night is elsewhere
and faint gray ladies stand in line,
dog follows dog to estuary,
the trumpets bring on gallows
as small men rant at things
they cannot do.

Charles Bukowski
“THE DAYS RUN AWAY LIKE WILD HORSES OVER THE HILLS”

Our Lady of the Angels

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A few weeks ago I visited the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in downtown Los Angeles. The original name of LA was Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula which translates as Our Lady the Queen of the Angels of the Porciúncula River. The “river” that the cathedral now sits astride is the 101 Hollywood Freeway, a major transit corridor for the region. It was an overcast Friday afternoon so I wasn’t able to capture any dramatic shadows on the façade and preparations for a wedding precluded any good photographs of the interior.

Anatomy of Los Angeles

The people of Los Angeles love to think that they live in the city of the future but it is rather a city of the present incarnation of past times and as a consequence the very thing that unknowingly empties our cities once the outskirts begin to grow. If you would like to know what the outskirts of Paris, London or even Moscow will soon look like, what their problems will be, what is waiting for us, threating us, you must go to Los Angeles.

“Anatomy of Los Angeles” (1969) French TV

Thanks to Curbed LA for bringing this great film to my attention.

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